


Silver Bells and Open Fire

by Hepzheba



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Fluff, M/M, Sillyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hepzheba/pseuds/Hepzheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles and his fellow carolers notice that someone seems to have built a new house in the old Hale land up in the woods, they have to sing for that person, right? They sang for a Muslim, for cryin' out loud! So yeah, they go sing for the grumpy Derek Hale, even if Derek shows no signs of appreciation whatsoever. Even the Grinch himself learned to love Christmas, so there's no way Stiles can't get Derek Hale into the Christmas spirit, right? Right. (And so what if Stiles also wants to get into Derek's pants, no one needs to know that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Bells and Open Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolffffflock (Hun__Sher)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hun__Sher/gifts).



> Lucy came up with an idea of Stiles doing caroling and falling for grumpy Derek ([Here's the original post on Tumblr](http://cumberwolf.tumblr.com/post/69261835418/since-its-christmas-soon-i-have-a-sterek)). I said something like "Oh, that'd be fun to write" and she was like "oh, please do!" and as flattery will get you everywhere, I did. I was planning on something short, 5000 words at the most... As always, when I write things for Lucy (*cough* Pirate's Life *cough*) they tend to get out of hand. She asked for some sex in front of a fire place and I was planning on it until the very end where I realized that it doesn't fit the story at all (though I'm thinking of writing a sequel with that...)
> 
> [Beth](http://foreverblue-navy.tumblr.com/) is my lovely beta, as always <33
> 
> Title is from Brandi Carlile's [Heartache Can Wait](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFWBlQZtry0) and except the words silver bells and open fire, the song has nothing related to this story.
> 
> If you, like me, read on your phone and doesn't want to spoil your reading by a sudden link that pops up, then you can [check this one out](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRJTvuIP-7I) before reading. It's a song someone (I'm not spoiling and telling you whom) sings and it's called All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth (if you already know the song and don't want to listen to it). (I don't blame you for not wanting to listen to it again.) If you don't wanna listen to it at all even if you don't know the song, you don't have to, just know that it's stupid.  
> It's also linked in the actual story, if you rather listen to it when you get to that part.  
> Other songs that are mentioned are Let It Snow etc, Silent Night and Oh, Holy Night, but I presume everyone knows those.
> 
> I've also come up with a name and a plot for a video game for this story. If it sounds lame, it's because it is lame. I didn't really spend much time coming up with it. And also, I don't play video games so I have no idea what people actually look for in video games.
> 
> As always, you'll find me on [Tumblr](http://hepzheba.tumblr.com/) (please, come by and say hi!)  
> Also, I'm one of those writers that appreciates constructive criticism.

“Dude, can you even sing?” Scott looks at Stiles with that judging kind of doubt that only a best friend gets away with.

“It’s in a choir, they won’t be able to hear me,” Stiles says. He honestly doesn’t know if he can sing. He sings in the shower sometimes and once recorded himself miming to Spice Girls’ Wannabe on his webcam – Scott knows about the last one (and probably about the singing in the shower too because Stiles forgets that if you sing really loud people outside the shower _will_ hear it) as he walked right into Stiles’ room that time. There were a few awkward moments after that, but they’re still friends. Besides, Stiles was there when Scott had a giant crush on Jasmine from Aladdin and cried himself to sleep because he wasn’t an Arabian prince for two weeks straight. They have both done some stupid things, okay?

So the main reason Stiles is joining the choir is not because he has this great urge to sing, but the fact that it will give him some extra points and when Stiles gets into Berkeley he can say fuck you to all those teachers who told him he wouldn’t be able to go to college because of his unability to focus on things that bored him.

“Isn’t choir for losers?”

“Danny’s in the choir. Are you telling me Danny is a loser?”

“No, but Greenberg’s also in the choir, are you telling me Greenberg isn’t a loser?” Scott counters and Stiles regrets ever teaching his friend to come up with replies when arguing. “Danny’s cool because he’s Danny. Everything Danny does is cool.”

Stiles hums in agreement.

“Still, I’m joining the choir.”

Scott rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else and they get back to killing zombies on the TV screen.

 

Being in the choir isn’t really that much of a hardship. They have two concerts in the fall and practice two hours a week. When December comes around it is time for them to go out caroling. They don’t move around in the whole choir with forty-something people, but get divided into smaller groups. Stiles is, according to their choirmaster, a tenor even though he can’t really sing those high notes that Isaac Lahey can. He is lucky he ends up with Isaac in his group, otherwise the tenor part of the songs would be as good as left out as Stiles doesn’t dare to sing as loud as he does in the showers. The bass is Vernon Boyd and his voice can reach depths no one else manages. The altos are a pair of twins that Stiles can’t tell apart, but their names are Faith and Hope Adams and the sopranos are Erica Reyes and Paula Daugherty. Stiles thinks they make a pretty awesome team (though they would make an awesome team without him, but he doesn’t think about that).

Stiles has come to realize that choir isn’t for losers either. Sure, Greenberg’s in the choir, but if anyone called Erica a loser she’d maul them without getting a single one of her blond locks out of place. She doesn’t look like the kind of person to be in a choir. If anything, she’d be in a punk or rock band with her tight leather skirts and high heels, but she’s an amazing singer. And she’s nice. Well, kind of nice. Stiles might only think she’s nice because she probably could gut him with her nails and then lick his blood off them. Boyd is quiet, but snorts when Stiles and Erica bicker and Stiles thinks the snort is Boyd’s way of laughing out loud. Isaac is kind of an ass, but Stiles is kind of an ass too, so they get along pretty well. The other girls go in Paula’s car and Stiles really could do without them. They’re not mean, but they’re not particularly nice either. Mostly they just ignore Stiles’ existence like everyone else in school.

They have been designated to sing to the houses on the east side, just close to the woods, and it starts well. They all wear identical Santa hats and Stiles thinks they both look _and_ sound pretty awesome. The Santa hats had been Stiles’ idea and the others had surprisingly agreed. If they were going to sing about Santa and Jesus at least they should look like Santa. (Stiles had tried getting them to agree to nail Isaac to a cross, but apparently that was too much. Erica seemed to like the idea though.)

Most people really appreciate the caroling; some join in and some give them gingerbread cookies as a thank you. Some shut the doors in their face and it’s first when the door is shut and Stiles is about to knock again that Isaac points out the fact that the man had worn a crescent and a star around his neck. Stiles winces and knocks again anyway.

“Stiles, no!” Erica hisses and digs his nails (more like claws) painfully into his arm.

The man opens again and now Stiles can see the golden crescent and moon around his neck.

“I’m sorry, sir, we meant no disrespect.”

The man frowns at him and his gaze flickers over them all. It might be their Santa hats or their honest expressions, Stiles has no idea, but the man visibly relaxes as his frown eases.

“It’s okay,” he says softly and Stiles is surprised by the lack of foreign accent. “I thought you were making fun of me…”

“Sir, I would never-!”

The others nod and the man smiles.

“How about we’ll sing something non-Christmassy for you?”

“Stiles!” Erica hisses in his ear and the claws are back in his arm. “We’re doing Christmas carols, they _are_ Christmassy!”

Stiles turns to the others who look at him with different stages of doubtfulness.

“Just because he isn’t celebrating Christmas doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have a nice time.”

“That’s very kind of you,” the man says.

And that’s how Stiles ends up doing his first solo performance singing _Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!_ He adds a few moves for show and the man applauds and Erica cries from laughing so hard and Boyd might even be laughing.

All in all, it’s a total success.

The next few houses are uneventful and then they are standing in front of a familiar house. Familiar in the sense that Stiles has been driving past it for years, trying to gather the courage to knock on the door.

“I can’t,” he tells the others in the car as he stares at the large house.

“Of course you can,” Erica says and Stiles turns to stare at her where she is in the back next to Isaac.

“Do you know who lives there?”

Erica rolls her eyes.

“Lydia Martin lives there,” Stiles hisses and points at the house, as if to emphasize his point. “I can’t… she can’t-”

“She doesn’t care,” Erica articulates. “Look, I know you’ve been having a huge crush on her since forever; everyone knows. _She_ probably knows. I’m sorry, Stiles, but she doesn’t care about you. She only cares about her looks and her pretty boyfriend. It’s time you move on.”

The words hurt. Stiles _knows_ Lydia doesn’t care about him, but Scott always tells him that Lydia probably didn’t hear Stiles when he tried talking to her and even though Stiles knows it’s a lie the words have given him some kind of hope.

Erica places her hand on his arm, but he shrugs her off. There’s a knock on the car’s window and they all startle to look at Paula and the twins.

“Are you guys coming or what?”

Her voice is slightly muffled by the window.

“We can do this without Stiles,” Isaac says and there’s a soft squeeze to Stiles’ shoulder.

He nods, but doesn’t look at anyone as the others get out of the car and walk up to the big house. He doesn’t look to see if it’s Lydia’s mom or maybe even Lydia herself that opens the door. He can barely hear the singing through the distance and the windows of the car.

The Martin’s house is the last on this street, but the road continues into the forest. Stiles didn’t think they usually tilled the road, but now it is. Stiles wonders why, and more importantly why there are tire tracks in the snow on it. There’s nothing but a burnt out shell of a house at the end of the road. Everyone in Beacon Hills knows the story how everyone in the Hale family but the son burned to death there four years ago.

Stiles’ interest is piqued immediately, he thinks of a smuggle ring holing up in the old house. When the others get back he forgets that he was supposed to sulk for at least another ten minutes in their company and instead lets them know about the tracks.

“My dad helped build a new house there,” Boyd tells them.

“Then we should go up there,” Stiles tells them and as he’s the one who’s driving the others have no choice but to just sit along for the ride into the woods. Paula honks and blinks with her lights behind him, but he just waves at her, even though she probably can’t see it in the darkness that has settled around them. Driving in the dark woods is quite scary, but also exciting. The road to the house is longer than Stiles thought it would be. He and Scott have been to the house, but they have come through the woods instead of by the road.

“If we get killed, I’m blaming you,” Erica tells him.

“No one is getting killed.”

“Erica might kill you,” Isaac disagrees and yeah, that’s probably true.

“Then we’re all doomed,” Boyd snorts and Erica slaps his shoulder none too gently.

At last the reach the clearing where the old house used to be. There are no traces of the old, big two-story building, but instead there is a smaller house in its place. It’s white and has no Christmas decorations at all. A sleek, black Camaro is parked in front of it. All of the house’s windows except for one are completely dark and stare ominously back at them.

“Did the Grinch move here?”

No one laughs at Stiles’ joke, which Stiles doesn’t think too much of, it was a pretty lame joke after all. Paula’s car roll up beside his and she rolls down her window, motioning for Stiles to do the same. Stiles is a bit surprised that the window isn’t stuck as he manually rolls it down, breaking a sweat while he’s at it.

“I’m not getting good vibes from this place,” Faith-or-Hope says from the passenger seat and Stiles is inclined to agree.

“They clearly don’t like Christmas,” the other twin adds from her place in the backseat. “They might be Muslims too.”

“Or murderers,” Erica adds way too cheerfully, and totally unhelpful for the cause.

“They might just not know how to feel the joy.”

Stiles gets six pairs of glares in varying degrees for his enthusiasm.

“Take it as a challenge,” he tries.

The glares intensify slightly.

“I’ll buy everyone pizza when we’re done.”

Before Stiles even have time to react his car is empty and the others are trudging up to the porch. They don’t ring the bell though, but wait for him.

“It was your idea, you’ll do it.”

Isaac pushes him to the front and Stiles rings the door. They wait for a long while. Stiles rings the bell again and then they hold their breath as they wait. Stiles rings the bell the third time and when the door finally opens they start singing _Silent Night_. Stiles can feel his smile faltering slightly as he takes in the new resident of the house, because he recognizes the face. He hasn’t seen it in four years, but he knows it belong to Derek Hale. The dark hair is longer, styled fashionably to stick up on his head, and the dark stubble is new. By the looks of it, Derek has been spending the last four years doing nothing but working out, his shoulders are broad and his pecs are visibly through the gray Henley. His dark jeans are awfully tight. Not that Stiles is complaining as he rakes his eyes down an impressive crotch (thank god for tight jeans!) and muscled thighs. The arms of the Henley are pulled up to reveal muscled forearms and when Stiles returns his eyes to Derek’s face he is met by quite an impressive scowl. So okay, maybe Derek did more than work-out; he also perfected his death glare.

The song ends and no one says anything. Usually they get at least a half-hearted applause or a tight lipped _thank you_. Even a door in the face would be preferable to the silence that stretches. Stiles is sure he hears a branch snap somewhere in the woods (he hopes there are no wolves here). Derek glares and Stiles can feel his choir buddies shift awkwardly by his sides.

“Merry Christmas!” he says. Or more like, shouts. He winces at his own voice. Derek keeps glaring. ”Uh. Nice home you have here. And uh, welcome back. I’m Stiles, I was in the same class as your sister.”

_Great job, Stilinski, remind the guy of his dead sister._

“Cora, I mean. Not Laura.”

 _Remind him of his_ other _dead sister, why don’t you?_

“As Laura was older than you it would have been very weird if I had been in her class, wouldn’t it?”

Silence. Awkward silence.

“Heh. We’re walking around caroling and thought we’d pop by. Which you probably noticed as we’re here and we sung you a song. So, yeah… Merry Christmas.”

Derek lifts his eyebrow slightly, just a small twitch, but Stiles is quite certain the guy is humoring him.

“Our singing was great!” he defends and Erica digs her claws into his arms – Stiles will have permanent marks when this evening is done.

“It’s the talking in between the singing that needs improvement.”

Derek’s lips twitch at Stiles’ outraged look and Stiles flails a bit before finding himself.

“My talk is awesome, dude! I’d talk the pants off you.”

Both of Derek’s eyebrows twitch this time and yeah, that is definitely amusement.

“I have no doubt.”

He gives Stiles a look that Stiles can’t really decipher but it makes him blush. Derek’s about to close the door when Stiles stops him.

“Hey, don’t you celebrate Christmas?”

Derek’s semi-amused face turns back into a scowl and his jaw clenches.

“I really don’t see the point with that,” he says before closing the door.

Stiles curses himself for asking about Christmas. He knows Christmas is a family holiday and he asks the guy who got his whole family murdered if he celebrates Christmas. _Way to go, Stiles!_

“Should we have left you two alone?” Paula asks and Stiles is a bit startled to realize that he is, in fact, not alone on the porch. He blushes as he realizes that they saw his humiliation.

“What? No! Let’s go.”

It’s later when they’re back in the car that Stiles starts to wonder what Paula meant. He asks the others in the car. Boyd snorts, Isaac laughs into his scarf and in the rearview mirror Stiles can see Erica giving the back of his head a pitying look.

“You guys were basically eye-fucking each other.”

“No, we weren’t!”

“You totally were,” Isaac agrees with Erica.

“Were not,” Stiles grumbles and then gets lost in thoughts about Derek and actual fucking.

 

He doesn’t remember much of the rest of their caroling or the pizzas they devoured afterwards. When he’s back home in his room he quickly finds some porn and what if half-way through he closes his eyes as he grips his cock and imagines it being Derek’s mouth that is sucking him? And what if he has to bite down on his other hand to keep quiet and that he comes harder than he ever remembers having done before?

No one needs to know about that.

 

Stiles can admit to being a healthy teenager and as a healthy teenager he thinks about sex a lot. But he has never thought about sex with any specific person and the fact that he thinks of Derek fucking into him later when he’s lying in his bed with his hand around his cock might freak him out a bit. Well, he doesn’t freak out during the jerk off session, but afterwards when he realizes that it wasn’t just about getting off, about pleasuring himself, but it was about all the things another person could do to him. Lydia was always so unattainable and for some reason, Stiles has never thought of her in any kind of sexual way before.

He does what anyone would do: he calls his best friend.

“Do you think of Allison when you jerk off?”

“Dude, what the hell? Don’t I even get a hello?”

“Answer me, do you think of Allison when you jerk off?”

“Yes, don’t you think of Lydia?”

“Yeah, of course. I was just checking. Bye.”

Scott is awesome and used to Stiles so he doesn’t call back, because there’s nothing more to discuss. Stiles sinks back on his bed. So he has the hots for Derek Hale.

Stiles has always known that he is attracted to both women and men, but he has never before thought of anyone in particular like this. Stiles guesses it’ll go away in a day or two.

 

It doesn’t. He thinks of Derek all the time. Not just about having sex with Derek. He thinks of Derek sitting alone in his house all day, being grumpy and not feeling the Christmas spirit.

The thing about Stiles is that he doesn’t really care about other people. Sure, he feels bad if there’s a natural disaster somewhere, but he doesn’t shed tears over the unknown people who die. He doesn’t really care about other people’s happiness, not the way he makes sure his dad eats right so he stays healthy and the way he listens to Scott whenever he wants to talk about his endless crush on Allison Argent. He does this because he _cares_ about them. For some reason though, the thought of Derek being alone in his house at Christmas makes Stiles’ belly clench in the same way it does when he thinks of leaving his dad when he goes off to college next year. Stiles has no idea how, but Derek has become one of the few people whose happiness is important to Stiles.

He thinks of going to Derek’s place a lot. He thinks of what to bring and when he’s grocery shopping he realizes that he can bring Christmas and the joy that is Christmas lights. He buys some Christmas lights on a whim and heads over to the Hale house before he can talk himself out of it. The black Camaro is gone and Stiles guesses it means Derek isn’t home. He rings the bell anyway, but the house is quiet. He considers leaving the box of Christmas lights on the porch, but then reconsiders and starts to put it up along the railings on the porch. There’s no electricity outlet so Stiles guesses he needs to get inside to actually get it to work properly.

There’s not really much to do then so he decides to leave. He’s half-way into his jeep when Derek’s car comes into view in the clearing. Derek gets out of the car and greets him by lifting his eyebrows.

“I- uh… I decorated your house.”

Stiles motions for the porch and Derek’s frown deepens.

“I thought I-”

“Yeah, I know, sorry. You can take it down. I just thought- you family wouldn’t want you to stop celebrating Christmas. And the lights make people happier. It’s been proved.”

“ _Sun light_ makes people happier.”

“Yeah, maybe, but…”

Stiles wets his lips and shrugs.

“Do whatever you want.”

He’s on his way into his car when Derek’s voice stops him.

“Don’t I get a song this time?”

His eyebrows do his amusement-twitch when Stiles turns to stare at him with his mouth hanging open in a probably unattractive way. He clacks his mouth shut.

“Sure.”

He licks his lips and rakes his brain for some song that will make Derek smile. He remembers seeing a clip with Goofy and Goofy’s son (whatever his name is) and starts to sing [_All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRJTvuIP-7I) with an exaggerated lisp. Derek’s eyes widen comically and Stiles smiles as the song is finished.

“Merry Christmas,” he says and drives away quickly before he melts all the snow on the Hale property because _his face is burning_. In the rearview mirror, he can still see Derek looking after him with a bewildered look on his face. What the hell was he thinking singing that song?

Despite the flush of humiliation he feels every time he thinks of Derek, he can’t help but jerk off twice when he gets home.

 

He stays away for two whole days and then he sees a ceramic Santa that’s almost two feet high, holding a lantern where you can put a tea light. The Santa would look good on Derek’s porch, Stiles thinks, as he stuffs the Santa under his arm.

The road is dark and Stiles is surprised to see the small, glowing dots on the porch of Derek’s house. Stiles didn’t plug the lights in, which means Derek must have done it. Derek’s car is parked in front of the house and Stiles parks beside him as he smiles at the lights. He has to walk around his car to get the Santa out of the seat belt in the passenger seat. He sets the Santa down next to the door and laments the fact that he doesn’t have a candle or a lighter. He knocks on the door and doesn’t have to wait for long before Derek opens the door – the time Stiles went there with his fellow carolers Derek probably waited for them to leave. Stiles snickers slightly at that. Derek gives him a twitching eyebrow which is as much as a greeting Stiles will probably ever get.

“I brought you a Santa.”

Stiles motions for the Santa and Derek stares at the Santa and then at Stiles and then at the Santa again. Stiles fiddles with the buttons on his jacket.

“Can I come in?” he blurts and then curses himself. He knows better than to just attack people like that. It’s rude and-

“Okay.”

Derek moves away from the door and Stiles moves inside before Derek changes his mind and shuts the door in Stiles’ face. They stand in the hall awkwardly for a while, Derek has put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans (Stiles is surprised he can even get his hands in, that’s how tight his pants are) and Stiles watches the hallway, trying to come up with something to say. The walls are painted in a gray color and are bare from paintings or any kind of personal decorations.

“I’m Stiles, by the way,” Stiles says when he realizes he haven’t even introduced himself yet. Somewhere his father face-palms and has no idea why.

“I know. I’m Derek.”

“I know.”

There’s a twitch in Derek’s eyebrows and then he motions to the opening behind him.

“I’m making pizza, you want some?”

“Dude, you’re making pizza? Like, making it by yourself?”

Derek huffs and turns to the kitchen, Stiles’ excitement apparently being evident enough that hell yeah, Stiles wants pizza.

“I hope meat and pineapple is okay,” Derek says when they get into the kitchen. The table in front of the window has a laptop opened on it and four chairs around it. Stiles wonders if Derek ever has anyone else sitting by the table. Papers are strewn all over the table and Derek hurriedly shuffles the papers into a pile, uncaring how they end up, before he places the heap of paper on the counter instead.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” he excuses the mess and Stiles smiles at him, because there’s something vulnerable in Derek’s expression and it makes Stiles’ heart clench.

“It’s a nice place,” Stiles comments and Derek gives him a half-shrug, turning to watch the pizza.

There’s suddenly a strange clicking noise that makes Stiles turn towards the doorway. A large, black wolf-looking dog comes in and Stiles moves forwards to greet the dog. He loves dogs, but his mom was allergic and when she died he stopped nagging his father about getting a dog, because his dad would give in by then and it would just remind Stiles of how things had changed...

This dog, though, is gorgeous.

“Watch it, he’ll rip your throat out,” Derek says and Stiles startles backwards, staring with huge eyes at the dog that is wagging its tail. He turns to ask Derek why he has a murderous dog in his house, but he loses all ability to speak when he sees the twitch of Derek’s lips, as if he’s forcing himself not to laugh.

“You lie! You bastard!” Stiles cries at him and Derek actually cracks a smile before turning towards the counter to get them plates. Stiles kneels and the dog walks up to him, happily sniffing his hands and then his face, no signs of any ability to do anything but possibly _cuddle_ someone to death.

“What his name?” Stiles asks as he scratches the dog behind its ear.

“D’Artagnan. I mostly call him Dart.”

“Dart,” Stiles repeats and looks at the large dog. Brown, kind eyes look back at him as a pink tongue lolls out of the dog’s mouth. “What kind is he? He looks like a wolf. He’s not really a wolf, is he? I think it’s illegal to-”

“He’s a black German Shepherd. Relax.”

Stiles hums noncommittally and gets up from the floor first when Derek’s putting the pizza on plates and onto the table.

“I have water or beer- You’re not twenty-one yet, are you?”

“I could be.”

“Water, it is.”

The pizza is delicious, possibly the best Stiles has eaten in years, and he tells Derek so. Derek ducks his head and his ears turn slightly red. It’s adorable.

Stiles leaves an hour and a half later, making no promises to come back. At least not verbally, but Stiles thinks Derek might be okay with him coming back.

 

In the next few days Stiles ponders on what more to do for Derek to get him into the right Christmas spirit. It’s too early to get him a tree, but maybe some other ornaments for inside? An opportunity presents itself when Erica sits down with him and Scott at lunch, swearing over the sewing she has to do.

“You could sew me a Christmas stocking,” Stiles says before he can think it through.

“Don’t you already have one?” Erica asks and steals some fries from Scott. Scott, though, is too busy watching Allison at the other side of the room to notice. Stiles is quite glad that the choir gave him some new friends because sometimes Scott’s company is equal to no company.

“Well, it’s not really for me, it’s for a friend.”

Stiles wishes he had more control over his body, but from Erica’s predatory smirk it’s quite clear she sees his blush.

“And does this _friend_ have a name?” she asks.

“Why do you need to know?”

“Because I’ll have to embroider a name on it, don’t I, smartass?”

Okay, so Stiles really didn’t think this one through at all.

“Derek,” he admits at last and Erica’s smile turns even wider.

“Does _Derek_ have a last name?”

“No.”

Stiles grabs his things and leaves before he can say anything else. Turns out that too was a mistake.

“Oh, come on, Stilinski, I think it’s great you’re getting laid,” Erica calls loudly after him and suddenly Stiles isn’t so invisible anymore. He hurries out of the cafeteria, keeping his head down, and prays that Scott is so caught up in Allison that he didn’t notice Erica’s words. He probably did though, because Allison probably noticed.

Scott does ask him about Derek, but unlike Erica he knows when to shut up so when Stiles tells him Derek’s just some guy he’s met and that they’re barely even friends and _can we please talk about something else_ Scott changes the topic to Allison’s new haircut – it’s at least four inches shorter.

 

Stiles finds some small ceramic Santas and a ceramic dog with a Santa hat for Derek the next time he goes to the mall. Okay, so maybe he went to the mall specifically for the reason to buy something for Derek as he feels that he can’t go to Derek’s place without a reason, even if said reason is as stupid as decorating the guy’s house. But it’s a reason none-the-less.

Derek’s outside when Stiles arrives, carrying firewood with Dart trotting by his side. He sets the basket down in the snow and waits for Stiles to get out of the car.

“I brought you some more Santas,” is Stiles’ greeting and Derek rolls his eyes, but he looks amused rather than angry so Stiles guesses it’s a win. Dart trots over to him, tail wagging as he greets Stiles and Stiles is glad to see that someone in the Hale family likes him at least.

“We’re going for a walk,” Derek tells him as he picks up the basket again. “Want to come?”

“Sure.”

Stiles tries for casual but his huge grin might betray him. Well, if Derek would turn around and see it, that is. Derek gets into the house to leave the basket, Stiles assumes, and comes back a short while later. He’s carrying a green, knitted scarf along with a matching beanie and mittens. He holds them out towards Stiles without saying a word and Stiles stares at them. Derek rolls his eyes and sighs in something that is half exasperation and half something that Stiles can’t even name. Derek winds the scarf around his neck unceremoniously – and a bit too tight, but judging by his smirk that’s intentional. He then tugs the beanie down over Stiles’ head, halfway over his eyes and that’s when Stiles’ body decides to actually react. He rearranges the hat and the scarf before accepting the mittens.

“Thanks,” he says and gets an eye-roll before Derek turns around and walks into the woods behind the house. Stiles tugs on the mittens and has to admit that they do wonders for his cold fingers. The scarf smells of some masculine cologne and Stiles can’t help but drag in the scent as he tries to keep up with Derek’s long strides. Derek doesn’t wear a scarf or a hat, but the collar of his coat is reaching his chin and he wears a pair of leather gloves that makes Stiles half-hard from thinking of some bondage things he barely even knows about, but also a bit scared because if Derek would want to murder him they wouldn’t find any fingerprints.

Dart trots along, sometimes behind them, sometimes in front of them and sometimes he leaves the path and comes darting back a while later, covered in snow.

“Is this your land?” Stiles asks. “Your family had a lot of land, right?”

Derek hums and Stiles thinks it’s in affirmation.

“So you can get your own Christmas tree?”

“I’m not getting a Christmas tree, Stiles.”

“We’ll see about that,” Stiles smirks at him. Derek rolls his eyes and looks away, but Stiles thinks he might see the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

 

They walk for almost an hour and when they get back to the house, Stiles is cold despite the things he borrowed from Derek. Converse shoes are really not the right shoes for walking in snow.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek tells him and herds Stiles down the hall, past the door to the kitchen and into a living room. There’s a TV in the corner to the right and a couch in front of it. On the wall in the middle is an open fireplace and in the corner to the left is a black, baby grand piano, which is the thing that catches Stiles’ attention.

“Dude, you play?” Stiles asks and then blanches when he realizes that Derek has heard him sing.

“I’m a composer,” Derek says and puts down the basket with firewood next to the fireplace. He starts to arrange the wood in a small pile inside the hearth. Stiles tries not to stare at his bulging thighs as the guy hunches down in front of the fireplace. Instead he walks over to the piano and touches the keys without pressing them down.

“What kind of composer? Like pop music or…?”

“Some movies,” Derek says, “mostly for video games though.”

Stiles’ head snaps up from where he’s watching the piano keys.

“Video games?” Derek just became ten times more attractive in Stiles’ books.

Derek shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed – he’s obviously not reading Stiles’ reaction right.

“What video games? Anything I might have heard of?” Stiles asks and Derek shrugs, keeping his gaze on the fire he’s about to start.

“You’ve heard of Mannequin?”

Stiles makes a spluttering noise, which makes Derek look up at him.

“Dude, you’ve written the music to _Mannequin?_ ”

Mannequin was a game released a year ago, taking place in a dystopian world where Mannequin-looking aliens ruled and humans were almost instinct. The player’s job was to take down the mannequins and save mankind. The story wasn’t unusual, but the graphic and details made it well worth the money. And the music was…

“Dude, that music is like… it’s like Final Fantasy good, you know that right?”

Derek stares at him in obvious surprise, as if Stiles is the first person to ever praise his work.

“I… Thanks,” he says after a long moment of silence and Stiles gets the impression he’s not used to the word, because he rarely has anything to be thankful for.

“It’s awesome,” Stiles says and turns to the piano once more. Derek comes up beside him and Stiles startles slightly, not realizing Derek was done with the fire – it’s now crackling in the fireplace.

“You’re allowed to play, if you want,” Derek says but Stiles backs away.

“I don’t know how.”

He then remembers his earlier realization that Derek has heard him sing and groans loudly.

“Oh, my god! I can’t believe I’ve sung for you!”

Derek smirks.

“You did okay.”

“No, I didn’t, I’ve only ever sung in the shower before this semester.”

“Then why did you join the choir if you don’t like singing?”

Stiles pulls at his lip with his teeth, his reasoning may have sounded okay when talking to Scott, but Derek’s a professional musician, there’s no way he’d…

“You did it for the brownie points.”

There’s a knowing smirk on Derek’s face and Stiles feels himself blush, only half about being ashamed for the fact that he thought the choir would just be an easy way to earn some extra credit, the only half is because Derek’s eyes are boring into him and Stiles has no idea what the other guy is thinking. He can’t even decide which color Derek’s eyes are, sometimes they look blue, sometimes grey, sometimes brown and sometimes green. Maybe they’re just some kind of mix of all of those colors. Stiles’ own eyes flick down to Derek’s lips and he licks his own without thinking. He then realizes the implication of that movement and swallows hard, backing away, because he’s afraid he’d do something stupid. Like kissing Derek or climbing him like a tree.

Derek’s smirk has disappeared and there’s no way for Stiles to interpret his frown.

“Are you still cold?” Derek asks and Stiles shrugs.

“Not as much.”

They stand there awkwardly for a moment and Stiles wonders if Derek will throw him out because of Stiles lusting after him, instead Derek walks over to the fire, even though it doesn’t need more wood at the moment.

“You want some hot chocolate?” Derek’s face is angled against Stiles over his shoulder. “I’ve got marshmallows.”

Stiles grins and just like that the previous tension is broken as he follows Derek into the kitchen to make the chocolate.

 

Stiles gets to Derek’s place a few days later without bringing anything, he’s not sure how Derek will react to this and he’s nervous for all kinds of different reasons (mostly that Derek will know that Stiles came twice last night while thinking of Derek fucking him).

“I don’t have anything with me today,” he excuses himself and Derek gives him a flat look. “I know we’re not friends or anything…”

Derek’s eyebrows do a displeased kind of twitch.

“Are we friends?” Stiles asks, both surprised and delighted. Derek gives Stiles the look Stiles has come to understand means _yes, you idiot_. He grins at Derek and Derek rolls his eyes, but even if he pretends he doesn’t like Stiles, he totally does because he just admitted that they were friends. Okay, so he may not have actually said anything, but his eyebrows did.

So after that Stiles takes to going to Derek’s as much as he can, sometimes he brings some awful Christmas ornament, but most times he doesn’t. Derek seems to be fine either way. Stiles is thrilled.

 

There’s going to be a party at Lydia’s place Christmas Eve and even though there’s never been any invitations sent out, everyone seems to be going there. Stiles and Scott always go there, but this year Stiles may not feel that much concern about the party and if it was up to him he probably wouldn’t even go. Scott, though, is ecstatic because he hopes he and Allison will get caught under the mistletoe together. He describes his too vivid dreams about it to Stiles and Isaac. Isaac looks just as uneasy as Stiles would have felt if he wasn’t used to Scott.

Stiles is busy packing his things for his last class of the year when someone clears their throat behind him. It’s a girl and the only girl that’s talking to Stiles is Erica and she would probably hit him rather than just clearing her throat. Stiles turns around a bit apprehensively and is meet by the one and only Lydia Martin. He can still admit that she is gorgeous with her curly, strawberry blonde hair and full, pink lips, but he doesn’t feel that swoop in his belly he used to feel when looking at her. He blinks at her when he realizes he hasn’t felt that way in quite some time. Not when thinking about her, at least.

“I’m having a party on Christmas Eve,” she tells him, as if Stiles is too dense to keep up with the most popular topic Beacon Hills High has to offer at the moment. Lydia curls one lock around her finger and sighs, as if it physically hurts her to talk to Stiles even if she is the one who initiated the conversation. “Allison likes Scott and it’s getting annoying to listen to her. She wants him to come, but she’s too shy to ask him. So I’m asking you.”

Stiles nods dumbly and Lydia flicks her hair over her shoulder as she leaves.

“Was- Was that an invitation?” Stiles calls after her. He’s never heard of anyone getting invitations to Lydia’s parties. He’s pretty sure Lydia’s _boyfriend_ is not even getting an invitation. And yet, here Lydia is asking him to come to her party. Okay, so she might be asking for Scott to come to her party and for Allison’s sake. But still…

“It’s was a make sure Scott gets his ass to my house at Christmas Eve or you’ll regret it.”

Stiles snorts on a laugh and something that looks like amusement flicks across Lydia’s face before she schools her features.

“You can come, too, if you want,” she says. “And your boyfriend.”

“My what now?”

If anyone in school thinks Stiles has a boyfriend they would probably be talking about Scott, but he’s pretty sure Lydia doesn’t think it’s Scott so he has no idea whom she’s talking about.

“You boyfriend,” Lydia articulates with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep quiet if you don’t want to come out yet.”

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but he’s not really sure what he should say. He can’t really deny the coming out part and for Lydia to keep quiet about it warms his heart even if he doesn’t really think it’s necessary, but he still has no idea whom she’s talking about.

“You know you drive a very special car, right?”

Stiles lights up at the mention of his blue Jeep; he loves his car.

“It’s not a compliment,” Lydia scoffs. “I mean, I see you drive up to Hale’s almost every day. I won’t tell people about the two of you if you want to keep quiet – even if I’m pretty sure no one would give a damn, but it’s your choice -” Lydia shrugs, “he can come to the party, too, if he wants.”

She seems to deem their conversation – or more her monologue – finished at that and leaves him gaping after her. People think he has a boyfriend? And more importantly, people think he would be able to get _Derek_ as a boyfriend?

 

At lunch time on Christmas Eve Stiles drives over to Derek’s place for the Christmas tree hunt. He asks Derek about the party when they trudge through the snow into the woods, looking for the perfect tree. Derek is carrying the saw, because he gave Stiles a _look_ when Stiles suggested he could carry it, as if he thinks Stiles would trip and chop off his head if he carried the saw. Dart is jumping behind Derek in the snow, sometimes disappearing completely in the deep whiteness while Stiles make up the rear end.

Stiles might have hoped that Derek would come with him to the party later and when people thought he was Stiles’ boyfriend – because if Lydia thought that, maybe more people would too – he would lay his arm around Stiles’ waist without correcting them. Stiles had also stolen one of his other daydreams from Scott and in that one he and Derek got caught under the mistletoe. Stiles’ dream was even more vivid than the ones Scott had described and most of them ended up with sex on the floor or against any other available surface (the people had vanished at this point of the daydream though; Stiles might be a bit perverted but he isn’t ready for exhibitionism).

So yeah, Stiles might have had some daydreams about Derek coming with him to the party, but he’s not too surprised when Derek, in an unimpressed tone, tells him he doesn’t want to go to a party with high school kids. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s the party thing or the high school kids thing that throws Derek off. Maybe a bit of both. It doesn’t even matter that there will probably be college students there too as Lydia’s older sister is the co-hostess for the party.

“Let’s just find that goddamned tree,” Derek says and Stiles is slightly put off by Derek’s gruff voice. Derek hasn’t been that grumpy with him in a long time and Stiles has not been missing that tone.

“If you don’t want a tree…”

“I just don’t want to go to some stupid party,” Derek interrupts and Stiles nods even though Derek is walking in front of him and can’t see him. Stiles realizes that Derek might have been to school with Lydia’s sister, they should be about the same age, give or take a year or two, and Stiles suddenly understands why Derek doesn’t want to go. Sure, if Derek didn’t want to be reminded of his family he maybe shouldn’t have moved back to the town where he grew up and where they died. Maybe he wants to remember the good things, but doesn’t want all the questions people that knew his family will ask. Stiles knows a thing or two about questions about dead family members. They never really get any better.

“Why did you move back here?”

Stiles hadn’t meant to ask that question out loud, but as always, his mouth does things before his brain has authorized them. Derek can just ignore the question if he doesn’t want to answer; he does that sometimes even if Stiles isn’t asking personal questions. Stiles can see Derek’s back tensing a bit, and he’s surprised when Derek answers in a low voice.

“My uncle went to jail,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it does. Stiles remembers something about Derek’s uncle coming into town when his family died and then when the school year was done, Derek went with him. Before Stiles has time to offer any kind of comfort, even though he knows that an I’m sorry doesn’t really offer comfort at all, Derek continues talking, “he tried to kill me and make it look like an accident because if I died he would get my whole family’s insurance money.”

“Wow,” Stiles breathes out and it might not be the most eloquent things one can say to that, but yeah, Stiles has never been one for eloquent anyway. Derek snorts and gives Stiles an amused look over his shoulder so he’s obviously not offended at least. “I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t,” Derek tells him and Stiles’ mouth shuts with an audible click. He’s about to say something else when Derek points with the saw he’s been carrying at a fir a bit further into the woods. “What about that one?”

They don’t pick that tree, but finds one a few minutes later that Derek drags behind him through the snow back to the house. Once inside Stiles lights a fire in the fireplace, because Derek has taught him how to do it, and Derek sets the tree at its place next to the piano. Stiles has bought him blue, red and silver baubles, lights and tinsel and as they decorate the tree Stiles sings Oh, Holy Night as loud as he can, making Derek wince, but he doesn’t tell him to shut up even once.

 

Stiles is quite sad to see the day come to its end and he has to leave or he’ll be late for the party.

“I’ll be fine,” Derek says when he follows Stiles to the door, as if he’s sensing Stiles’ unease at leaving him alone.

“It’s Christmas,” Stiles says and Derek rolls his eyes.

“It’s the thing you’ve been shoving down my throat the last couple weeks so yeah, I _know_ it’s Christmas.”

Derek leans in slightly, just a few inches, and Stiles’ heart jumps in his chest as he thinks Derek’s about to kiss him, but then Derek leans back and puts his hands in his front pockets of his jeans and Stiles thinks he’s stupid to ever have thought Derek was going to kiss him.

“I’ll come by on Boxing Day,” he says and Derek nods.

Stiles can’t read his facial expression, it’s completely blank, and it irritates him.

“Well, merry Christmas then,” he says and Derek nods.

“Merry Christmas,” he replies and Stiles waits a moment, just in case Derek is going to say something more, but when Derek doesn’t he opens the door and walks over to his car.

The party at Lydia’s house is already in full swing. Stiles recognizes maybe half of all the people and he guesses the rest is college students. He gets a beer in his hand by Isaac, but before Stiles even has time to ask anything Isaac has disappeared again. Stiles sighs and looks around. There’s a couple that is quite heavily making out on the couch in the living room and when Stiles looks closer he recognizes the black, fluffy hair of his best friend and Allison’s dark curls.

“Way to go, man,” he congratulates even though the music’s too loud, he’s too far away and, probably most important, Scott is way too busy to hear him.

He makes his way into the kitchen where he gets into a discussion with a guy about Star Wars. The guy is probably a college student and quite obviously drunk and Stiles isn’t surprised when the guy gives up their argument and walks away. After that Stiles tries to find someone to talk to, but everyone seems busy, he travels between conversation; all the while thinking of Derek sitting alone in his house. He leaves the party way too early and is pulling on his jacket when a voice addresses him.

“Leaving already?”

Stiles would recognize Lydia’s voice anywhere, he has spent years wishing for her to direct that voice towards him. It’s still quite surprising that she’s talking to him, and even more surprising that his heart is beating its regular rhythm.

“Yeah, my dad-”

Lydia gives him an unimpressed stare that clearly tells him that she won’t believe anything he says unless he tells her the truth. Stiles shuts his mouth and pulls at his hair a bit, wondering what to say.

“Can I come with you?” Lydia asks and Stiles stares at her with his mouth opened for a moment. “It’s just… Jackson’s being an ass-”

“Jackson’s always an ass,” Stiles supplies unhelpfully and Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Worse than usual then,” she says and he nods.

“I can’t drive,” Stiles tells her and she shrugs.

“We’ll walk, it’s not that far up the woods.”

Stiles nods and wonders how Lydia will be able to walk in the snow with her high heels. Turns out she owns other shoes than high heels. He is surprised to see her pull on a pair of boots and a woven beanie. They leave the house together and Stiles is surprised when Lydia links her arm with his. The sky is dark, but stars are twinkling above them and the snow lights up the world so it’s not really too dark even if the lights don’t reach that far into the woods. In the distance the lights from Derek’s house are visible.

“How come you’re talking to me now?” Stiles asks. It’s probably because of the alcohol he’s been drinking that he dares to ask the question that’s been bothering him since they left Lydia’s house.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

“Catch up?”

“Yeah, you used to think you were in love with me.”

“I was!”

“No, you weren’t.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. He knew Lydia probably knew about his feelings for her, but it’s weird hearing her say it.

“You’re smart,” Lydia says and it’s not as much as a compliment as a statement. “We’ll do greatness together, but we can’t be more than friends. It wouldn’t work.”

Stiles hums in something that might be agreement.

“How did you and Derek meet?”

Stiles is surprising himself by telling Lydia all of it and maybe she’s right about the fact that they shouldn’t be more than friends.

When they get to Derek’s house, Stiles knocks twice before opening the door without waiting for a reply.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice comes from his office where he has computers and music equipment that Stiles has no idea how to use. He comes out from the office, his hair a mess, as if he’s been dragging his hands through it a lot. He’s wearing sweatpants and a gray Henley and Stiles wants to tell Lydia to go back home so he can get his mouth all over the deliciousness that is Derek Hale. Derek looks uncertain when he spots Lydia half-behind Stiles.

“Hi, I’m Lydia,” she says and Derek takes her proffered hand with a bewildered look.

“You’re my neighbor,” he says because Derek lacks all kinds of manners apparently. Stiles chuckles and leads them into the living room. Lydia compliments Derek’s house and Derek nods curtly and Stiles has no idea why Derek is so closed off. He leaves the awkwardness and heads for the kitchen to get them some snacks (because he’s a better host than Derek) when he gets a text from Scott, asking where he is. He considers lying, but then he realizes that lies always take way more energy than the truth. He doesn’t have to wait long before he gets another text, this one from Isaac, letting him know that they’re on their way to Derek’s house. Stiles has no idea who _they_ even are, but he guesses it’s at least Isaac and Scott. The two have become quite close friends because of their new eating arrangement this term.

“Some more friends are on their way here.” He decides it’s best to warn Derek so he can lock the door, if he wants to. Derek looks more relaxed now though and he just nods and accepts the glass Stiles hands him.

Not long after that there’s a knocking on the door and Stiles grabs Derek’s hand to lead him to the door, so Derek can greet the guests, even if he didn’t invite them. So what if Stiles doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand until they’re by the door, Derek doesn’t let go of his either.

“Hey, buddy!” Scott yells as he, Isaac, Allison, Erica and Boyd tumble inside. Stiles has no idea how they all got there so quickly and then winces when he sees his jeep on the driveway.

“You really shouldn’t leave your keys in the car,” Boyd says and hands him the keys as he bypasses.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles turns to say to Derek and is surprised to see that Derek is not looking angry, but rather amused at the teenagers that pull of their winter clothes, as if it’s not the first time they’re in his house.

“We need more snacks,” Derek tells Stiles and Stiles nods and tries not to blush because the implication of those words are that the guests are his _and_ Derek’s and not just some of his friends that came there uninvited. They move into the kitchen to get the snacks. Stiles is in the doorway when Erica calls his name from the hallway.

“Stilinski, you’re under the mistletoe, someone should kiss you.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and pretends he thinks it’s a stupid tradition, but he’s hoping Derek will turn around, sweep him into his arms and kiss him breathless. Nothing happens. Derek turns to look at him and there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

“Are you gonna do it, or what?” Erica asks Derek with a cocky expression. Derek shrugs and turns his back towards Stiles to retrieve glasses for all of them.

“You do it,” he tells Erica and Erica’s mouth purses in displeasure before she takes the few steps between herself and Stiles, who’s standing frozen in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, I tried,” she says and pecks Stiles’ lips quickly. Stiles tries to feel glad for the fact that he got kissed by a gorgeous girl underneath a mistletoe, but all he feels is disappointment that it wasn’t Derek who kissed him.

Stiles had thought Derek was fine with all the people invited, but he keeps quiet and glares at them most of the time. When the bowl with the potato chips is almost empty Stiles takes the bowl and manages to get Derek up from his place in one of the armchairs and to go with him into the kitchen.

“Look, I’m sorry they’re here,” Stiles says, “I can make them leave if you want to.”

“It’s fine.” He’s not looking at Stiles but rather somewhere to Stiles’ left, at the counter, and he seems to think it’s anything but fine.

Stiles makes a frustrated noise and gets another bag of chips from one of the cabinets. Derek’s leaning against the counter and has apparently no problems watching Stiles when Stiles isn’t looking back at him. Stiles sighs and turns to face him.

“Erica seems nice,” Derek says and Stiles tries to smile at that, he really does, but he suspects it looks rather constipated. His heart is aching in his chest and he wants to scream at Derek for noticing that Erica is nice the first time he meets her when it took him a few meetings to just tolerate Stiles.

“Yeah, I guess,” Stiles says and wonders how he should break the news that Erica is dating Boyd. But he’s not sure that Erica being taken already is something that will stop Derek. Stiles would leave anyone if Derek wanted him. Derek hums and looks away from Stiles.

“Are you and Erica…?” Derek asks and even if he doesn’t finish the sentence, Stiles knows what he’s asking.

“What? No. She’s- I’m- I’m not interested. Not in her.”

Derek looks up at that, he seems genuinely surprised, as if the very thought of anyone being uninterested in Erica is startling to him.

“Are you interested in anyone else?” Derek seems to have interpreted what Stiles said the correct way.

“I might be,” Stiles says and Derek is staring at him, as if he can’t really understand what Stiles is telling him. Suddenly Stiles has a hard time getting air into his lungs because Derek is looking at Stiles the way Stiles is looking at Derek, as if _Derek_ would leave anyone if Stiles wanted him. “Are you-?” He wets his lips and his cheeks burn and his belly churns as he notices that Derek’s eyes flick to his lips. “Are you interested… in someone?”

Derek nods, his eyes flicking to Stiles’ lips once again and Stiles licks his lips again, maybe because of the nervousness or maybe because Derek’s watching them. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

Derek steps closer and Stiles’ heart is beating like crazy. He knows what’s happening but he feels like an outsider because he’s barely even aware that he sets down the bowl he’s been holding. Derek closes the space between them, standing close to Stiles, so close Stiles can feel the heat of his body. Stiles tilts his head up, towards Derek’s face and his eyes shuts the moment before their lips meet. Derek’s lips are dry against his and it’s just a press of lips against lips, but Stiles feels his body thrumming in delight. Derek moves away, just a few inches, maybe just one, before he leans in again, this time he angles his head a bit differently and his lips fit perfectly against Stiles’. The press of lips against his is a bit harder this time, and Stiles grabs Derek’s shirt by his sides with both hands, if it’s to keep Derek close or keep himself from falling he has no idea. Derek moves away again and Stiles releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Wow,” he whispers and Derek snorts.

“Just wait,” he says and then he leans in again. This time it’s more than just a press of lips, this time it’s a wet tongue against Stiles’ lips and Stiles opens his mouth, letting his own tongue meet that new, foreign tongue. Derek tastes amazing, he thinks. He doesn’t know what he tastes like, just that it’s a unique taste and that he can’t get enough. He makes a noise that sounds quite a lot like a whine and Derek licks into his mouth as his hands caress Stiles’ neck and cheeks.

Of course, that’s when Scott walks in, completely ignoring that they’re quite busy and starts rambling about something or the other. Stiles isn’t really paying attention. He does, however, notice, that Derek only moves away some inches from him and keeps his hands on Stiles’ hips. He smiles and kisses Derek’s cheek before they follow Scott back to the living room, Scott’s monologue about whatever never once faltering. Derek gives Stiles a small smile and tugs him down into the armchair to sit in his lap and Stiles couldn’t be more pleased about how his Christmas Eve turned out as Derek hugs him from behind and kisses his neck softly before joining in a conversation with Erica about Catwoman versus Batman. 


End file.
